Fennel and Rue eBook

us has slept a moment. We have come to the conclusion
that there was only one thing we could do, and that
was to tell you just exactly how it happened and take
the consequences. But there is no reason why
more than one person should be brought into it, and
so I will not let my friend sign this letter with
me, but I will put my own name alone to it. You
may not think it is my real name, but it is; you can
find out by writing to the postmaster here. I
do not know whether you will publish it as a fraud
for the warning of others, but I shall not blame you
if you do. I deserve anything.

“Yours truly,

“JerushaperegrineBrown.”

If Verrian had been an older man life might have supplied
him with the means of judging the writer of this letter.
But his experience as an author had not been very
great, and such as it was it had hardened and sharpened
him. There was nothing wild or whirling in his
mood, but in the deadly hurt which had been inflicted
upon his vanity he coldly and carefully studied what
deadlier hurt he might inflict again. He was of
the crueller intent because he had not known how much
of personal vanity there was in the seriousness with
which he took himself and his work. He had supposed
that he was respecting his ethics and aesthetics, his
ideal of conduct and of art, but now it was brought
home to him that he was swollen with the conceit of
his own performance, and that, however well others
thought of it, his own thought of it far outran their
will to honor it. He wished to revenge himself
for this consciousness as well as the offence offered
him; of the two the consciousness was the more disagreeable.

His mother, dressed for the street, came in where
he sat quiet at his desk, with the editor’s
letters and the girl’s before him, and he mutely
referred them to her with a hand lifted over his shoulder.
She read them, and then she said, “This is hard
to bear, Philip. I wish I could bear it for you,
or at least with you; but I’m late for my engagement
with Mrs. Alfred, as it is—­No, I will telephone
her I’m detained and we’ll talk it over—­”

“No, no! Not on any account! I’d
rather think it out for myself. You couldn’t
help me. After all, it hasn’t done me any
harm—­”

“And you’ve had a great escape! And
I won’t say a word more now, but I’ll
be back soon, and then we—­Oh, I’m
so sorry I’m going.”

Verrian gave a laugh. “You couldn’t
do anything if you stayed, mother. Do go!”

“Well—­” She looked at him,
smoothing her muff with her hand a moment, and then
she dropped a fond kiss on his cheek and obeyed him.